Confessions
by Rydia Asuka
Summary: Travelling together for nearly a year is a long time to get up to trouble. On the road from Redcliffe to Denerim, as their journey comes to an end, the warden and Zevran take a few minutes to own up to some previous mischief.


_Just a short little companion piece to another of my stories, _Denerim_. It's not necessary to have read that to enjoy this._

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Dragon Age: Origins, all affiliated characters and settings are the property of BioWare and EA Games. No copyright infringement is intended; no profit is being made.

* * *

"I'm the one who put that slug in your boot, that time in the Deep Roads."

Zevran blinked, turning his head to glance at the elf riding beside him. Fälin was facing forward, not looking at him, but the blond had no doubt to whom the redhead was speaking. He remembered that incident all too well, and could almost still feel the creature squish underfoot as he shoved his foot inside.

"Ah, so that lovely prank was yours, my dear? Very clever." And not okay. That had just…not been okay. If Fälin had not happened to have that extra pair of boots…

"It was intentional, I assume."

"I played a prank on you on purpose? How very clever, my wise assassin. I've underestimated you."

Had Zevran been less patient, he might have been annoyed by the jibe, but as it was he could only laugh. One of the things that had drawn him to Fälin had been the other's wit, after all—you know, after one factored out his being attractive. Or even really just capable of having sex. It was enjoyable to spend time with someone who was willing to go toe-to-toe with him.

And all of that aside, they were riding to their deaths in a crazy effort to kill a giant dragon. It was good to know that, after everything, Fälin could still laugh. He had been growing afraid that the stress of the situation was going to leave the other elf permanently scarred. Any sign that that was not true was worth smiling about.

"Very clever, my dear, but not what I was referring to."

"Ah… Well, then you were referring to my scheme to ruin your boots so that I could swoop in and save the day with some fine Antivan leather?" the Warden asked, leaning over and placing a hand on Zevran's thigh. "Because if so, you would be right."

The assassin chuckled, leaning down to brush his lips over Fälin's. It was somewhat difficult, given the fact that they were riding, but Zevran was nothing if not determined. "Yes, my Fay. That one."

They both fell silent for a moment, and he took the time to ponder divulging a story or two of his own. Well, if it was confessions-before-they-died time, then he might as well.

"…I once put a laxative in Alistair's stew." That had been a good time, _and_ had worked out exactly as he had planned—minus the part where he had been stuck on watch all night while everyone else was ill. He had had the sense not to eat it, naturally—Alistair had never been permitted to cook again.

Fälin sputtered. "Y-you…!" The elf paused, frowning. "You know what, I don't even want to _remember_ that night." The redhead fell silent for a moment, before a quiet mutter reached the blond's ears, "…it makes sense now."

Their illustrious leader glanced around for a moment, before sidling Gryphon in closer to Warden. "I'm the one who buried your armour in the snow, back in the Frostback Mountains."

Zevran sputtered. That had been…! Cold. So cold. He had had to dig it out, and then had been unable to put it on until he had thawed the drakescale armour over the fire—at which point it had almost been too hot.

"…you are lucky I am fond of you."

"Love you too, Zevvy."

"Or perhaps I hate you."

"They are so similar, no?"

Glancing to his friend's grinning face, the blond could not be mad. It was just so good to see Fälin relax, even if just for a few minutes.

Now, Zevran was not as big on pranks as the other rogue, his actions typically having practical application, but he was still far from innocent. In fact, he had one good one…

"You should not stand so close to those you have trussed up on the ground, my dear."

Looking confused by the seeming non-sequitur, Fälin frowned. "What are you talking about?"

"Why, the day you took me as your own, my warden. Do you not remember? I was laying there, defenceless on the ground, completely at your mercy…"

"Zev…"

"With your handsome self standing over me. I do not apologise for my action, my dear, because I hope you would have done the same in my place."

"Done _what_, Zevran?"

"Why, I looked up your armour, of course."

The warden froze, mouth thinning slightly. "You did _what_?"

"Did you not hear me, my dear? Perhaps you should get your hearing checked. At any rate, I said tha—"

"_Zevran_."

"Yes?"

"My hearing is not the problem here! The problem is that you completely debased my privacy!" Fälin hissed, voice barely staying low.

"I do not see how that is a problem. It was nothing I have not seen before, and truthfully is quite a bit less than I have seen now."

"But not _then_!"

Zevran could not stop himself from being amused by the situation. It was cute that his normally-suave lover was suddenly so flustered by this one confession.

"I fail to see the distinction, my dear."

Fälin huffed quietly, some of his annoyance already leaking out. "Never mind."

"If it is any consolation, it was quite a nice sight. It was also thanks to that that I decided I simply must have you."

"Very comforting. Really," came the sarcastic reply.

"Ah, Fay, do not tell me that you still believe you seduced me? I assure you that I knew I must have you from that moment."

"Oh, it's not that. I've figured out that it's not so much a case of _seducing_ you as it is a case of beating you off. With a flaming stick."

"Ah, yes, you _do _possess quite a flaming stick."

Fälin rolled his eyes, the action clearly visible even in the flickering light. "What I was trying to say is that," pausing, the other elf smirked, "I thought I was the first one to see _you_ naked."

The blond laughed out loud at that, drawing a few gazes to their hushed conversation. "Well, if it is any easement to your pain, you were not exactly naked," he said, then grinned. "Unfortunately."

"Yeah, yeah…"

Silence descended, and then, "I was the one who put the black hair-dye in your shampoo."

Zevran blinked. "That was no—"

"That was you?!"

The two elves glanced at each other and broke out laughing, much to the chagrin of a certain ex-templar.


End file.
